


What We Don't See

by ChillsofFire



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Government Conspiracy, Hunger Games AU, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-17 11:25:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8142031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillsofFire/pseuds/ChillsofFire
Summary: Plagued by both an oppressive caste system from Cybertron's own Senate, and a brutal punishment in the form of the Retribution Games from the Galactic Council, Orion Pax begins to follow the gladiator Megatronus in his call for an end to both. But the seed of corruption is rooted deeper than it appears, and the two will soon discover that the change they fight for is more desperately needed than they ever imagined. In order to survive, they will need to work together, make allies out of enemies, and finally realize that there is no such thing as coincidence.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Hunger Games!AU that no one asked for! I randomly got the idea after watching a video on Youtube and...here we are!  
> Updates may be slow, so be patient with me please

Nominus Prime did not bother to look up from his desk when the sharp knock sounded on his office door. Three quick strikes, no more, no less, that rang through the room easily. There was no ignoring that knock.

“Enter.” He swiped one digit across the surface of his datapad, reading through the newest headlines. The door slide open smoothly, and calm, steady pedesteps approached his desk. “You’re late, Zeta. I expected you here three solar cycles ago.”

“I’m sorry, sir. There were…complications.” Zeta stopped in front of the desk and held out a single datapad. “Your list. I flagged a few items that I believe to be most concerning, but of course,” he bowed his head slightly, “the final decision is yours.”

Nominus accepted the datapad without looking up at the mech before him. Silence filled the room as he began to read over the information, optics traveling quickly over the glyphs. Zeta watched him quietly, waiting for a reaction he knew was bound to happen.

There, three names from the bottom. Nominus’ optics stilled their hurried reading. Slowly, he turned his gaze up to finally look at Zeta.

“It was a surprise to me too.” Zeta said softly. “He’s getting bolder. Beginning to question. Even starting to discuss it with his friends and coworkers.”

“That’s a shame,” Nominus looked back down at the datapad, his voice lowering to an almost murmur, “He’s a good worker…” He finished reading the information, then reread it to ensure he had fully absorbed everything. Two quick flicks of his stylist and he was handing the datapad back to Zeta. “Good observations. Your red flag was perfectly assigned.”

“Thank you, sir.” Zeta bowed his head slightly once more, “I’ll get this turned in immediately.”

“See that you do.” Nominus turned his attention back to his original reports, giving one servo a dismissive wave. Zeta turned around without another word.

The door slid shut behind him, the guards posted on either side did not flinch as he walked by. It wasn’t until he was around the corner, away from prying optics, that he paused to look at the datapad. A frown tugged at the corner of his mouth when he saw what had been marked.

He hesitated for only a moment, mind running quickly to weigh the possible risks, before silently drawing his own stylus out. The glow of the datapad shimmered over his face as he worked, but only for a moment. A few quick strikes, soft taps of the stylus against the surface of the pad, and Zeta smirked to himself.

_Excellent decisions, Prime._

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

_“What makes them better than us!?”_

Orion Pax was never certain why that simple question drew his attention. Maybe it was the emotion, the demanding anger, the obvious hunger for an answer, the raw power with which the words were spoken. Perhaps it was where it came from; very rarely did such inquires get asked to boldly, so fearlessly, in the depths of a cities like Kaon. Or maybe it was simply _who_ had spoken that caught his audio receiver. He had never heard a champion gladiator ask such things before. Whatever the reason, it did not change the facts.

Megatronus had Orion hooked after six words, and neither of them knew it. Not at first.

Far too much time was spent listening to that speech that day. Orion had heard all he needed to in order to properly archive the audio file within thirty nano-cycles; but he found himself listening until the end, soaking in every word. They stayed with him for the rest of his shift, and swirled in his mind as he made his way home.

What _did_ make the higher castes so different? What was it that allowed them such a luxurious life filled with power and influence?

Megatronus’ words haunted Orion as he slept, and continued to echo in his mind when he woke.

Orion found himself watching more people than he ever had before.

Did the enforcer he passed on the corner actually want to be an enforcer? The bots on the news; were they satisfied with their jobs?

Was he happy with his?

The last question surfaced later, as he was plugged into the Grid, half-heartedly listening to an artist in Altihex complain about her paint. Fear instantly gripped his spark, and Orion found himself glancing around guiltily. Was is right, was it _safe_ , to have such thoughts?

_We have been brainwashed into complacency! Made to feel content when we are truly too empty and unfulfilled to know the difference!_

Megatronus roared in his mind, and Orion paused. Was he unfulfilled?

There were too many questions, too many ideas warring in his head. Orion found himself unsure of the world for the first time in his life.

And so he found himself at Alpha Trion’s door; trusting the old Archivist to bring him clarity. But Alpha Trion did not give him the answers; not immediately.

Alpha Trion steepled his digits, watching Orion with a deep and knowing gaze.

“What do you believe?”

Orion was unable to answer him. He could see, in places, the stagnation that was consuming Cybertron. The space bridges were rusting away, used for nothing more than to transport those Chosen for the Retribution Games once a stellar cycle; the discoveries that so many scientists had made off world were being forgotten, as they were no longer able to study them. It had been centuries since they had made contact with another race.

Yet, at the same time, the caste system kept order. Without the system, who would decide how the jobs were split up? How would anyone get anywhere if everyone was allowed to do whatever they pleased? Surely it was for the best. The Cybertronian Senate knew what it was doing.

Right?

“Tell me,” Alpha Trion pressed on when he realized Orion was unable to decide where he stood, “Has Megatronus ever spoken of the Games?”

Orion shook his head, “Not that I am aware of. I have only heard him challenge the caste system.”

“Watch, and think.” Alpha Trion called an old holovid up, and Orion watched as Megatronus stood at the center of the Pit, clearly just having finished a match.

“I was once asked if I was afraid to fight!” The crowd on the holovid fell almost silent, and Orion found himself leaning in right along with them. Who would ever think someone like Megatronus was afraid to fight?

“I was asked,” Megatronus continued, pacing slowly around the Pit so that all could hear him, “if I feared what the government would do if they caught me, if they got word of the battles here. Do you know how I responded?”

 _The Senate already knows._ Orion said silently, watching as Megatronus looked around at the crowd, as if he were actually waiting for an answer to end the pause he had made.

“I _laughed!”_ He roared into the quiet, his voice echoing around the arena. “I fear no retribution! The Senate knows of these games, make no mistake! At this moment, there are dozens of archivists listening to me speak! At this moment, my words are being catalogued and filed away for others to listen to! The Senate knows, and they will do _nothing!_ ”

The arena was silent, all attention focused on Megatronus. Orion felt his optics widen slightly. Was it wise for someone like Megatronus to be so aggressive toward the Senate?

“Why would they bother with such small games such as these?” Megatronus continued, his voice booming through the pit with ease, “Why would they waste their time, when they are so busy forcing us to partake in the universes must brutal blood sport!?”

Hushed whispered rippled through the crowd, the feeling of unease tangible even through the recording. Orion found he could not tear his attention away.

“The Games we have been thrown into, the Games we sacrifice our people to, we have no business being part of them! And the Senate knows it! The _Prime_ knows it! Yet they continue to cower beneath the Galactic Council! They continue to bend to their rules, their biased ideas, and speciest views!”

Orion looked at Alpha Trion in alarm, fear, sudden and strange, gripped his spark. The Archivist shushed him quietly, nodding back toward the holovid.

“The war that brought their wrath upon us was started by organics, several galaxies away! Their greed and their bloodlust brought them to our planet! We defended ourselves! We fought only to protect our planet, our resources, our home! And when the Galactic Council ended the fighting, they treated _us_ as the aggressors! They ordered us to join their games of _repentance_ ,” He spat the word, “and our own Senate, rather than fight for our lives, bowed beneath them! Now two of us are sacrificed, sent out to be slaughtered, because our Prime is too weak to stand against a Council of organics!” Megatronus stopped his pacing, turning in place to watch the crowd.

“The next Selection is almost upon us! They could choose you!” He pointed at the spectators, “Or you!” He pointed again, “We cannot stand for this! We cannot let them continue to sacrifice us for their own weakness!”

The holovid cut off. Orion blinked, his brows furrowing in thought.

“I ask again, Orion Pax,” Alpha Trion’s voice was calm, “What do you believe?”

“I believe…” Orion began slowly, allowing his thoughts to settle. He had looked into the history of the Games, and the war that started them, but to have it laid out so boldly, so _bluntly_ before him… “I believe that Megatronus is right.” He looked up at his mentor once more, “The war was not our fault. We defended ourselves, and were punished for it. It is not…fair.”

He stopped, his brows furrowing further. Those words felt strange on his glossa, sounded alien to his audio receivers. But they felt… _right._ It _wasn’t_ fair.

“So you believe our Senate to be wrong on this matter?”

Once more Orion hesitated, considering the possibility. Slowly, he nodded, “I do.”

“Then tell me, Orion Pax, why could they not be wrong about the caste system?”

Orion had no answer.

“I advise you to research this further. Learn what you can before deciding where you stand.”

And so Orion began to read, checking out datapad after datapad from the archives, rereading the history he already knew before diving deeper. It wasn’t enough. His thoughts spun with ideas and cautious revelations, but his perceptions were limited, his experiences restricted only to the life he knew. He needed more insight. And he knew just where to get it.

The Grid was designed to reach across Cybertron, covering the planet from end to end, so that all could be heard. There were blind spots, areas where the signal was weak, such as the underground, the mines, some of the gladiatorial pits, but for the most part it was an almost flawless system that carried all forms of communication back to archivists to be catalogued.

 _Almost_ flawless. It did not take Orion very long to break away from it and establish his own secure connection. Soon he was able to listen to the Grid, to Megatronus, without being at work; without being detected.

Or so he thought.

Ratchet had warned him to be careful, had told him that going off the Grid could lead to trouble.

“You can’t learn anything locked in a prison,” Ratchet had waved a scalpel at him, “The gladiator may make a good argument, but don’t get yourself in trouble because of it.”

“Is it not worth investigating?” Orion had asked, trusting his friend to be honest, “Don’t you think there is truth in his words?”

Ratchet had sighed, “Of course I do, Orion. I have never agreed with the Games, and the caste system…” He had trailed off, as if unsure how to describe their current state, before shaking his head, “Let’s just say I agree with a lot of his ideas. But not all of them. I just want you to be _careful,_ Orion Pax. The Senate is starting to clamp down on a lot of people like Megatronus; I don’t want you to be one of the people they decide to punish.”

Orion had agreed to be careful, but that did not stop him from continuing to watch Megatronus. The champion had much to say, and he spoke often and loudly. Between the words from the Senate and the words from Megatronus, Orion was left with much to think about.

And it was because he was thinking that he did not see the mech before it was too late. So deep in his thoughts was he, that he missed the pedesteps as they drew near, and did not notice the shadow that stretched over his table until the new arrival spoke from behind him.

“Megatronus is quite the fighter, isn’t he?”

Orion slapped the datapad down, hiding the screen, and the match, that he had been watching. Fear shot through his spark, freezing the energon in his lines for a moment. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that his terror only added validity to Megatronus’ words. No one should be this afraid of being caught listening to another speak.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Orion could not yet bring himself to turn and face the mysterious arrival, “May I join you?”

He nodded, inhaling deeply to calm his pounding spark. The mech behind him moved to the other side of the table and sat. He was a flier, that much was obvious from the thin wings that protruded from his arms. He had a strong jaw, a sharp chin, and blue eyes that sparked with intelligence. They were watching Orion now, filled with curiosity and a streak of genuine kindness. Orion recognized him instantly.

“Senator Shockwave?”

The Senator smiled, “Nice to meet you, Orion Pax.”

“You know my name?” Orion was careful to keep his voice even, his optics wary as he watched his sudden guest.

“I know much about you.” Shockwave leaned forward, his arms folding over the top of the table, and nodded at the datapad, “You have been watching Megatronus’ very closely, and for quite some time now.”

“I was…researching the lifestyle of a gladiator.”

“Researching politics, more like.” Shockwave smiled, “I know all about your private link, Orion, and I know what you have been indulging in.”

Orion swallowed, but found himself sitting straighter, suddenly ready to defend his actions. “I had thought my connection was secure.”

“Oh, it was,” Shockwave sounded almost reassuring, “but I have gotten very talented at studying the Grid.” His smile almost turned into a grin, and he leaned in closer, his voice lowering as he added, “You are not the only one interested in what the gladiator has to say.”

Airing on the side of caution, Orion said nothing. Merely watched the Senator until he’s grin softened into a smile again.

“I am not trying to trick you. You are free to speak your mind.” Shockwave reached for the datapad, his optics flicking up to Orion’s face before placing a servo over it. Orion nodded once, and Shockwave pulled it closer, turning it over to show the screen. The video resumed, and for a moment there was silence as he watched.

“What do you think of him?” Shockwave did not look up from the datapad.

Orion was quiet for a moment, thinking the question over. How did he properly explain his thoughts about a gladiator who had opened his optics to the true depths of the oppression on Cybertron? How did he put into words the way Megatronus had opened his mind to the possibility of free thought? Of thinking beyond the place the caste system had put him in?

There was no easy way to say all that. Not really.

“I find him interesting,” Orion finally said, settling for simplicity, “His thoughts about the caste system, the Games, our freedom…it is all very…”

“Refreshing.” Shockwave smiled slightly, still looking down at the video.

Orion nodded slowly. He was going to say _enlightening,_ but the Senator’s description worked as well.

“The Senate fears him.” Shockwave’s smile was gone.

“Megatronus?”

The Senator nodded, “His words have reached farther than just your data hub. Scientists and medics, miners and senators, minicons and shuttleformers, Megatronus has been heard by all of them. There has been talk.”

“Unrest.” Orion said softly, “There was a protest at a small mine near the Sonic Canyons last week.”

“I heard. They were protesting the caste system. The Senate does not take that lightly. And Megatronus has been discussing much more than just the caste system.”

“The Games…” Orion murmured, his optics dimming thoughtfully. They brightened suddenly, widening as he looked up at the Senator, “Are you saying the Senate might punish Megatronus?”

“I am saying he is gathering a following, whether he knows it or not.” Shockwave flicked his optics up from the screen, meeting Orion’s startled gaze, “The Senate will see it as a threat.”

Orion was quiet, giving himself time to process what he was being told. “You are a member of the Senate,” He spoke slowly, “are you not threatened?”

“I resent that accusation.” Shockwave sat up, his optics bright with a sharp edge, “I am not like the others. New views, new ideas, do not threaten me. They are what built Cybertron, and those who do not understand that, those who are content with this stagnant system, are fools.”

The small outburst, though sudden, did not surprise Orion. Senator Shockwave was known for arguing extensively with the other members of the Senate, and speaking out, loudly and angrily, about issues he thought were being ignored. He had just recently come off of his second suspension that lunar cycle for “indecent emotional outbursts”.

“I apologize if I offended you.” Orion said honestly, “And I have to ask…why are you telling me this? Why did you seek me out?”

“Because,” A small smile softened the Senator’s optics, “I believe that you and I share similar ideals, and I am always on the lookout for those who are willing to look past the lies they have been taught.” He stood, sliding the datapad back toward Orion, “I understand that forming new ideas can be difficult. If you find you have questions, feel free to contact me. It is important to learn all one can when faced with a debate such as this, and I feel that we could teach each other much.” Shockwave turned away before pausing, “Although,” he turned back to Orion, his optics shining with an almost knowing look, “you could learn even more if you went directly to the source.”

Orion inclined his head, hoping he was hiding the surprise he felt, “Thank you, Senator, I will take your advice under consideration.”

Shockwave nodded once, still smiling, before turning to leave. Orion slowly sat back in his booth, digits drumming lightly over the back of his datapad. A new thought had occurred to him, spurred by the Shockwave’s words.

He was right. Orion was mostly sure now of where he stood, having spent much of his free time diving into Cybertronian history and researching past…disagreements, but there was still much he could not grasp. And how could he, when his own experience was limited only to the upper caste life he had always known? There was still so much that was lost to him.

So the next solar cycle, while he was plugged into the Grid, Orion opened a private line, double and triple checked its security, and sent a simple message to Megatronus.

_Your words may have reached higher than you know. I would be interested in hearing what else you have to say._

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

“The next Selection is in three solar cycles!” Megatronus called into the crowd, flicking fresh energon off his blade, “Do not allow the Senate to use these Games to bury the issues they do not wish to address!” He turned slowly, optics roaming over the arena, “We are growing louder! They have no choice but to hear us now! The caste system must end! These Games must end! They _will_ end!”

A loud cheer erupted throughout the crowd, and the sounds of stomping pedes and clapping servos echoed in the air. Megatronus roared along with them, his fist in the air, encouraging the sound, drawing it out until he was ready to speak again. Silence fell quickly when he stopped his pacing, all audio receivers trained on him.

“Enough energon has been spilt to please our government. Enough of our people have fallen on alien planets, to the sound of jeers, to make amends for a mistake we did not make!” The pit was dead quiet now, allowing Megatronus’ voice to echo throughout the stands. “I swear, by the Pits of Kaon, I will do all I can to ensure that this stellar cycles’ Retribution Games will be the _last_ Retribution Games Cybertron takes part in!”

The cheers were almost deafening in their enthusiasm. The very air shook with the force.

“The Galactic Council will no longer force us to offer up our own!” Megatronus roared, and was answered by a victory yell.

“The Cybertronian Senate will no longer be allowed to get away with bending us to their rule!” Another yell was his reply.

“The Games will end! The caste system will crumble! This will be _our last sacrifice!”_

By this point, the arena had grown so loud it was impossible for Megatronus to make himself heard. He stood in the middle of the pit, arms open wide, blade still dripping with energon, and roared with the crowd. Cameras and recorders flashed around him as everyone present documented the moment, and slowly but surely the wordless screams of energy turned into a word, just one word that was picked up and repeated until it was all that could be heard.

_“Megatronus! Megatronus! Megatronus!”_

Orion Pax turned off his datapad, setting it face down on the table before closing his optics. The happy drone of the oil house seemed muted compared to the cacophony of noise that had filled his audio receivers seconds before, and it made it easy for him to tune it out so he could think.

Megatronus’ words were expected. The gladiator had grown much bolder in the past few stellar cycles. And for the most part, Orion agreed with them.

For the most part.

“You were watching him again, weren’t you?”

Orion opened his optics, smiling softly at the mech who was moving to sit across from him.

“Hello, Ratchet. I’m glad you could make it.”

Ratchet’s optics were stern, “Don’t avoid my question.”

“I was. His last speech was…very intense.”

“I know, I was listening.”

Orion’s optics widened, and Ratchet looked away, coughing into his servo to hide his sheepish look.

“And you were scolding me…” Orion teased, “You always talk about how dangerous that is. I never would have thought…”

“It wasn’t my idea…”

“It was mine.” Orion looked over his shoulder, smiling again as Senator Shockwave stopped to stand beside him. The Senator smiled back, his voice lowered so only they could hear, “I gave Ratchet a private patch through his audio receiver. He can listen to Megatronus without fear.”

“It’s made keeping up with him easier, I’ll admit.” Ratchet leaned his elbows against the table, “Besides, to be perfectly honest, I’m not sure if there is anyone on Cybertron who _isn’t_ listening to him now.”

“You may be right,” Orion scooted over so Shockwave could join them, his voice low, “The Grid has been buzzing with his name. It seems many are agreeing with him.”

Ratchet made a thoughtful noise, twining his digits together before bringing his joined servos up in front of his mouth. Orion nodded once, understanding Ratchet’s concern.

“He seems impatient…”

“I agree,” Shockwave held up three digits at a passing server, “he is eager for change, many of us are, but he may end up taking extreme measures to make it happen.”

Orion nodded, “We’ve talked about that. I keep trying to explain to him that we can do this peacefully, but he does not believe the Senate will listen.”

“Well, he is not _wrong,_ ” Shockwave tapped his digits along the table, “Senators like Proteus would sneer him out of the Hall.”

“But Senators like you would listen to him,” Orion pointed out.

“How many others do we know about, though?” Ratchet asked, “Senator Shockwave is the only Senator we know of that seems to agree with Megatronus.”

“Here you are!” the server, a bubbly minibot with a cool, green and white color paint job, announced himself before placing three cubes of visco on the table.

“Thank you,” Shockwave handed him a currency card to cover the drinks, and the minibot smiled before promising a quick return and leaving to scan the card.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t discuss Megatronus here.” Shockwave said, passing the cubes to the other two mechs.

“What should we talk about?” Ratchet accepted his cube, “The upcoming Selection? The increased rate of suicide attempts that happens every stellar cycle?”

“How cheery.” Shockwave sipped his drink.

Orion reached out a servo, gently touching Ratchet’s arm, his voice was soft when he asked, “Did something happen?”

Ratchet sighed and rubbed a servo over his face, “A scientist in Crystal City killed himself  yesterday. I hadn’t seen him or talked to him in several centuries, but…”

“You knew him…” Orion murmured, “Ratchet, I’m so sorry…”

Ratchet huffed, lowering his servo to pat Orion’s, “Thank you, but I’m fine…I just despise the circumstances that brought him to that point…”

“Hold on,” Shockwave lowered his cube, brows furrowed, “I thought it was near impossible for a Cybertronian to kill themselves.”

“It is if someone finds them quickly, depending on the injury. But a shot through the spark tends to do the trick.” Ratchet’s voice held a bitter edge. “I know the medic  who did the autopsy. He said it was a clean shot, perfectly executed. Just like I would expect from a scientist.”

“I’m sorry,” Shockwave said sincerely, “I didn’t mean to offend.”

Ratchet waved a servo dismissively, picking up his cube. “I may not agree with everything Megatronus says, but there’s one thing he has right. The Games need to end. Soon.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Shockwave took another sip from his cube.

Orion squeezed Ratchet’s arm gently, giving him a small, reassuring smile.

“Everything will work out, Ratchet…”

“I hope so, Orion,” Ratchet squeezed his servo, “I truly do.”

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Megatronus exited the arena, blade still extended, still dripping with the energon of his opponent. He was met in the entrance hall by a mech, layered thick with dark purple armor and watching the approaching gladiator with a dark full-faced visor.

“Did the transmission go through, Soundwave?”

The mech nodded once, moving to smoothly walk beside Megatronus as he strode past.

“Good. Make sure it is broadcasted on every signal you can access. It will be some time before we are able to make another.”

Together, they made their way out of the pit, following the familiar paths and allies until they emerged from the underground, optics quickly adjusting to the dim light that the sun had to offer. The city of Kaon spread out before them, the streets bustling with more activity than the city usually saw. Megatronus paused to watch as a large monitor, longer than the arena he had just left and twice as wide, was hoisted up to a group of construction workers waiting on top of support beams.

In three solar cycles, the workers would be finished, and the monitors would be working to broadcast the Galactic Council’s transmissions. In three solar cycles, Megatronus and Soundwave would find themselves in the streets, watching the screens as the names of the two Cybertronians Selected for this stellar cycle’s Games were announced. After that, all transmissions would be filled with the footage of the Games, and nothing else but the more important of news. It would be nearly impossible for Megatronus to continue his speeches until everything was over.

Megatronus glared at the workers, at the large screens and the seals of the Galactic Council that were being draped from the surrounding buildings. It all stood out to him like an infected wound to a medic. They did not belong here.

“This will be the last Game, Soundwave.” Megatronus growled lowly. “I will end them, and then I will end the Council. And it all starts here.” He looked at Soundwave, his optics bright with anger.

“The Senate must fall.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy guys! Let me know what you think!

Iacon Square was silent. Orion walked slowly through the streets, making his way to the check in booths that had been set up the night before. Mechs and femmes followed around him, their optics dim. Dark, gloomy fields clogged the air, clashing together into an overwhelming atmosphere of fear and worry. On either side of the streets, armored, masked Galactic Council guards watched the procession, powerful weapons grasped in their hands. There would be no rebellion. Not while they were there.

Orion stepped into the ever growing line, slowly moving forward as the suited organic checked in his fellow Cybertronians. Two lines down, he could see Ratchet waiting, his arms crossed across his chest, his optics trained up toward the monitors that had taken over the large city square. They were off at the moment, nothing but enormous squares of blankness. Orion didn’t look at them. He disliked them. The cold, emptiness seemed like an extension of the Council’s feelings for his people.

“Stand still.” The organic checking his line in moved closer, holding up a scanner. Unlike the other organics that fought in the Games, Cybertronians' did not have prints on their digits. There were no marks on their extremities to be scanned and recorded to check for attendance. And their CNA was too complex for the Council’s computers to read. Scanning their spark signatures had become the Council’s preferred method of keeping track of the Cybertronian Offerings.

When the scan was complete, Orion was ushered further into the square, which was slowly becoming overcrowded. It wouldn’t be long before the crowds were herded into the streets that fed into it.

Orion wasted little time in seeking Ratchet out again.

“Are you worried?” even the soft murmur seemed too loud in the tense area, and Orion resisted the urge to cringe from the sound of his own voice.

“No,” Ratchet murmured back, “The Games don’t scare me.”

Orion knew that was not completely true, but he held his glossa and moved half a step closer to his friend. Their EM fields wove together gently, warm and comforting.

A light on the main stage turned on, shining directly on the Council’s seal. Chairs lined either side of the platform, and as Orion and Ratchet watched, Nominus Prime and his close secretary, Zeta, ascended the stairs to take their seats. Behind them followed Senator Proteus, and Senator Shockwave arrived just after. Slowly but surely the seats filled up with the rest of the Senators, the only people who were safe from the Selection.

 _To avoid chaos, protect the state of the government, and ensure the safety of the planets, all officials of government standing shall hereby be exempt from the Games, and the preceding Selection_. Orion knew the amendment by spark, and he repeated it to himself every stellar cycle. At least he never had to worry about Senator Shockwave.

The screens flickered, the seal of the Council replacing the empty blackness. All optics turned upward.

It was the same speech every year, delivered by the leader of the Council, a large organic with gray skin, a square face, and a pair of short tusk like growths that grew on either side of his upper lip. Thisi was his name. His voice was rough, as if he were talking through a throat full of metal shavings.

He spoke of the war, so many years ago, of the ten planets who threatened to destroy all traces of peace across the galaxy.

 _Three_ Orion silently corrected him, remembering what Megatronus had said, what Alpha Trion had helped him discover in the depths of the war’s recorded history. _Three planets started the war. Four rose to stop them, and the rest of us only wanted to protect ourselves…_

But the Council had punished them all, and now it was time again for all of the planets to give two of their own up for the Games.

“To show your remorse for your actions,” Thisi droned, “and as payment for the lives you took.”

As always, the rules were explained, as if those involved did not already have them seared into their memories.

Ten planets, twenty Offerings, left in an enclosed arena on a distant planet to fight until only one planet’s Offering, or Offerings, if both survived, was left standing.

The screens adjusted, splitting the image so that Thisi’s face shared the space with a line of ten large tanks. The name of each planet was written formally across the front surfaces, and they were filled to the brim with strips of something the organics called _paper._

Orion had found the cutting of thousands of trees down to make a writing surface a sad waste, when computers and virtual surfaces were so easily available, but understood the reasons behind using it for the Selection. The archaic method could not be hacked; leaving random chance as the sole decider as to who was sent out to die.

“May Fate be kind.” Thisi rumbled, and a large fan was turned on within each the tanks. The millions of strips of paper began to swirl, mixing and tumbling through the confined space.

Thisi moved to the first tank. A small hole which he could reach his hand through was cut and covered on the sides of every container. As millions upon millions of organisms watched, he reached his hand through and caught two strips of paper from the air. The camera pushed in to his face as he read the names.

“From the planet Xaephus,” his voice carried across the silence, “the two Selected to partake in this year’s Retribution Games are Vethrax and Bizan. May Fate be kind to both of you.”

Orion shared the anger that briefly pulsed through Ratchet’s field. Xaephus had been one of the three aggressors, and the people that resided on the planet were blood thirsty and cruel. They won the majority of the Games.

Cybertron was last in the line-up. As Thisi calmly moved from one tank to the next, Orion allowed his mind to drift, at least for the moment. Quick prayers to Primus formed in his head, and silently his lips moved to give them life. Prayers of safety for his friends, prayers whoever was chosen was a skilled fighter, prayers that Primus allow Megatronus’ words to become reality, that this really would be the last Game, that the pain and suffering would end soon…

“From the planet Cybertron,” Thisi’s voice cut through Orion’s thoughts. Sharp tension colored Ratchet’s field. Orion stepped a little closer. “The two Selected to come forth as Offerings are…”

A low buzzing filled Orion’s audial receivers. Energon froze in his lines. His spark stopped in his chest. Thisi’s lips kept moving, but Orion did not hear him. Words circled in his processor, but their importance refused to sink in.

Ratchet grabbed his servo tightly. His optics were wide when Orion turned a blank face toward him. For a moment, he didn’t understand the fear he saw there.

_The two Selected…Orion Pax…_

His knees almost buckled.

“You can’t go,” Ratchet whispered hoarsely. His grip around Orion’s servo tightened as two guards moved forward, irritated by Orion’s stillness.

“I have to…” The words were barely audible as they left his mouth. Orion wasn’t even sure he had said them; his glossa felt numb in his mouth. “Ratchet,” He cleared his throat, “I have to…”

The guards were getting closer. Orion would not allow himself to show so much weakness by being dragged to the stage.

“Let go, Ratchet,” His voice was somehow steady, though his servo shook when he squeezed back, “Let go…”

Ratchet swallowed hard, his optics flicking from Orion to the approaching guards. He swallowed again before squeezing his optics shut. His digits loosened around Orion’s, just enough for him to slip his servo free.

 _Optics forward_ Orion turned toward the stage, hoping that no one could see his legs shaking. The guards paused, watching him closely as he began to move forward.

The walk from Ratchet’s side to the raised stage passed in a blur. Time seemed wrong. A blink of an optic took an eternity, and when he opened his optics, he was standing at center stage, looking out at the sea of Cybertronians below.

“I present this year’s Offerings,” Thisi drifted through the static, the sound distant, as if he were speaking from the far end of a tunnel. Orion looked up, optics fixing on the first thing in front of him. Nineteen other faces looked back at him from a screen across the square. Most of their faces were expressionless, or set with stony determination. The Xaephinians were grinning broadly, obviously soaking in the attention.

Thisi was speaking again, most likely giving his speech on how those Selected were truly bringing honor to their planets, but Orion was deaf to his voice. Static grew louder in his audial receivers, the faces before him began to swim.

 _Do not lose consciousness._ He almost pleaded with himself, forcing his ventilations to remain steady.

He almost jumped when a gloved hand closed around his arm.

“Come on.” A gruff voice ordered.

Orion swallowed and turned to follow the guard off stage.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

The room was plain; a simple space with one window and two chairs. What else did it need, really? It was only used to that those who were chosen could say goodbye.

Orion stood up, only to immediately sit down again. His body could not decide what it wanted to do. Sitting left him restless and shaky, with his legs itching to move and pace. Standing made him dizzy as the situation slowly sank in and left him weak with fear.

He was going into the Games. Of all the millions of names that could have been chosen, one of them was his. If he wasn’t so afraid of suddenly crying, Orion could have laughed at the twisted luck. The probability of his name being called had been so, so slim.

But of course, it had to be someone. So why not him?

He forced himself to breathe.

One of two. He was one of two Cybertronians. To make it back alive, eighteen other organisms had to die.

_But I am not a killer…_

The door opened suddenly, the sound of it sliding on its tracks enough to startle his spark. He hurriedly stood.

“Ratc- _oof_!” Orion barely got the word out before his friend was hugging him tightly, his face pressing against his shoulder. Orion did not hesitate to wrap his arms around him. For a moment they said nothing, focused solely on taking comfort from each other.

_It could have been Ratchet._

Somehow, the idea of Ratchet being in his place scared him worse than having to face the Game.

“Alright,” Ratchet pulled back, his voice steady and stern, ready to get down to business. Orion did not miss the added thickness, or the way Ratchet swallowed before continuing, “We can send you gifts to help, I’ll make sure to send you a medical kit, Primus knows you’ll need one…you’ll need energon. Chances are they’ll have some in the arena, but it will be dangerous to get to it.”

“Ratchet…”

“Don’t go into full recharge at night, you’ll be able to function fine if you only go into a light cycle. The Traxians hunt better at night, and the Marutians like to sneak up on others, so you’ll need to be able to react quickly.”

“Ratchet…” Orion hated the faint edge of pleading that was creeping into his voice.

“You remember what I use for rust infections, right? And how to weld small wounds? You’re plating is thicker, it will be harder for them-“

“Ratchet!” Orion almost cried out, halting the medic’s questions. He swallowed, “I do not want to kill anyone…”

Ratchet’s optics softened. He reached out to squeeze his shoulder gently, “I know, Orion…but if you want to get out of there alive…” he didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t have to.

“I am not a fighter,” Orion murmured.

“You’ve been working with Jazz, haven’t you?”

“A little, but not enough to be ready for…this.”

“You’ll have time to practice.” Ratchet grasped his arms, “You have to try to come home, Orion…”

Orion nodded once, “I will try, my friend…”

Ratchet nodded curtly. His opened his mouth, intent on continuing his barrage of advice, but was interrupted by the door opening again.

“Time’s up.” A guard stepped in.

A tiny, sad smile pulled at Orion’s mouth, “Take care, Ratchet…”

“Be careful…” Ratchet squeezed his arms again. He turned toward the door, walking as calmly as he could. Orion watched until the door slid shut behind him. Ratchet did not look back. Orion told himself to thank him for that if he… _when_ he got the chance.

The door was not closed for long. Barely thirty nano-cycles had passed before it slid open again. Senator Shockwave crossed the room quickly, his field bright with anger and fear and helplessness. Orion noted that he had changed his colors for the Selection ceremony, to black and deep blue, with a flat finish; mourning colors. So unlike the bright white, purple, and shimmering gold he had sported three solar cycles ago.

“You need to stay close to him.” Shockwave stopped just in front of Orion, optics watching him intently. Orion blinked.

“Stay close to…who?”

“ _Megatronus._ Didn’t you hear his name?”

Orion’s optics opened wide, “No, I…” he thought back to the static in his audial receivers, the way the faces had blurred while he was on stage, “My mind was…elsewhere…”

Shockwave nodded in understanding, “Megatronus is a gladiator. He knows how to fight. Stay close to him. You have been communicating with him, yes?”

“Yes, but-”

“Good, we are more likely to help others if we know them. A somewhat sad but undeniable fact.” Shockwave turned slightly, beginning to pace between the chairs, “He can fight. He could win this. And when you return to Cybertron, we can make our plans to end these Games forever.”

“Senator Shockwave, I am not a fighter…Megatronus will not want to act as body guard for me. It puts him at greater risk.”

“You have many things to offer in return, Orion.” Shockwave checked his chronometer, his deepening frown stopped Orion from trying to continue the conversation. “I wish I had more time…there are things I need to do, preparations I need to make…” He grasped Orion’s shoulders, looking into his optics.

“I have heard you speak, Orion. Though your audience is smaller than Megatronus’, your words are powerful, maybe more so than his own. Never underestimate that power.”

Orion nodded quickly, “Thank you…”

“I have faith in you, Orion Pax.” Shockwave smiled softly. He patted Orion’s shoulders once before turning away.

“Senator!” Orion called out just as the door slid open again. Shockwave turned to him. “Make sure Ratchet is okay, please…”

“I will keep my optics on him.” Shockwave promised. The door slid shut. Orion sank back into his chair, his face falling into his servos.

The silence of the room pressed on his audial receivers.

How much time did he have left? How long until the guards came back to take him to the space bridge?

He sat up quickly when the door opened for a third time, fully prepared to see armed guards waiting to escort him out.

Alpha Trion stepped into the room, as quiet and as calm as ever. He did not approach Orion, not immediately. They stood still, watching each other.

“Are you afraid?”

“Yes.” Orion could not lie to him.

“You would be foolish not to be.” The Archivist moved forward, calmly sitting across from him. “I have no advice to offer you, Orion Pax, I am not a warrior, nor am I a medic. But I do have words of comfort, should you choose to believe them.”

“I would welcome what you have to say,” Orion murmured.

Alpha Trion leaned forward, “A change is coming to Cybertron. What you and Megatronus have started cannot go unfinished. I believe the path that lies ahead of you will be hard. You will be faced with many difficult decisions. But, I believe you can emerge victorious.”

Orion met his optics quietly, “You think we can win the Game?”

“I do. And much more. You have set something great in motion. Only you can see it through.”

Orion looked at his servos, processor spinning.

“Do not think too deeply on it now,” Alpha Trion said gently, “You should take this time to prepare yourself for what lies ahead.”

“Can you stay with me until they come to take me?”

“I will stay with you for as long as I can.”

Orion took a deep breath, letting it out slowly to calm himself, “Thank you…”

They sat in silence for the next few kliks. Orion appreciated the quiet, the moment of calm it provided. It seemed so natural; it was almost as if they were back in Alpha Trion’s office, reading datapads after hours. Slowly, his spark calmed its erratic beating, and breathing became easier.

When the guards came to retrieve him, Orion stood calmly, his head held high. He exchanged goodbyes with Alpha Trion, hoping that his optics portrayed the gratitude he felt.

The guards moved to stand on either side of him, and Orion followed them out of the room.

He did not look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to throw some Megatronus POV in here, but he didn't want to play nice, so that didn't happen. Next time.
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://chills-of-fire.tumblr.com) as well!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked it don't forget to comment below!


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